


Whiskey, Books, and Grace

by Enderheart13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: serial killer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7790125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enderheart13/pseuds/Enderheart13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and Castiel are three of the most dangerous hunters the world has seen, but very few people know that their hunting isn't limited to the supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey, Books, and Grace

1.  
Anyone who came across the three of them, whether or not they had heard the rumors and stories or not, knew they were dangerous. Yes, together they made the most successful and efficient hunting team, but they did much more than just hunting. They were armed and dangerous and had a near insatiable lust for blood. 

 

Ghost, demon, werewolf, vampire, and the more than occasional human hunt gave them more than enough work to occupy their time- not that they didn’t enjoy time off, though. Time off was usually spent in motel rooms or beaches or just laying in the grass listening to each other’s breathing. They were rarely apart from each other, and if they were it was only out of necessity during a hunt. 

 

People have called their relationship poisonous, dangerous, and unpredictable but they never knew any better, didn’t know anything other than each other. They grew up isolated from normal society in a way most people would never come close to understanding, grew up with only each other to rely on. Everyone knew how they were going to end up, not a doubt in their minds. People warned their father, but he would never admit what he knew.  
Sam, Dean, and Castiel were three of the most dangerous people the world had seen, but they were oh so good at staying hidden. It was nearly impossible to find them, not that anyone wanted to. They left no tracks, no trails, and no fingerprints, moving from job to job, disappearing entirely in between. 

2.  
It was just Big Brother Dean and Little Brother Sammy, and as middle school age was approaching for Sam something happened on a hunt. It seemed like a normal shifter hunt, but Sam was the first to notice. Kills were a little too close together in time to be just one shifter, there had to be at least two, if not more. Dean knew Sam was right, but since this was a hunt their dad had insisted they stay back on, there was no way to relay that information to him. After a little persuading Dean prepped Sam to go out and they hot wired a car from the motel parking lot, making their way to their destination.

 

Dean pulled the car into the long driveway of a house hidden in the woods, stopping a distance away so no one would hear them coming. In the car they had worked out their theory, it was either two shifters or a whole bunch of them working in rotation. Sam thought the latter was not very likely since they weren’t known to work together much, but Dean said to consider all possibilities. They also worked out their plan- knocking down the front door and storming the house. It was a fifty-fifty chance that there was only two of them and they felt like taking their chances that night. 

 

Sam was right, there were only two shifters (Dean still said it was better to contemplate every possibility) and only one of them was in that house. Dean figured that Sam had enough training to take on a shifter with nowhere to go so he let the boy loose, staying back but close enough just in case he needed help. Sam took care of it quickly. He stood there for a moment, looking down at the rather gross body of the shifter. Dean saw Sam’s head tilt back up and he knew something had happened, and since the first thing running through his mind was that Sam had gotten hurt, he rushed over to him. 

 

“Sammy? You good?” He asked, hands on his shoulders, turning Sam around to face him. Sam looked a little dazed, a little like he was about to say something but couldn't. His eyes focused in on Dean, looking over his face with an unusual intensity as Dean checked him over making sure he was okay. He eventually found Dean’s eyes, struggling just a little to find his words. His lips formed a half hearted, mostly confused smile. “De… I, I just,” he turned around and pointed to the body of the shifter, practically melting on the ground. It occurred to Dean, in that moment, that Sam had never killed something so close to human. He knew he had issues, but he didn’t want Sam to have any. He wanted Sam to have the best possible chance at a normal life he could get. 

 

Dean shook his head, guiding Sam to the car, muttering apologies the whole way. Sam looked at him occasionally, still looking slightly confused but more aware of things, nodding every so often. He was either totally lost in thought or very traumatized because the moment Sam hits the seat of the car he was spaced out again, eyes staring straight ahead. 

 

Dean almost panicked on the way home, freaking out that Sam was hurt but he had shown no signs of any injury other than a few little scratches. He got out of the car, stopping to quickly fix some of the wires before rushing over to Sam’s side of the car, opening it up and picking Sam up quickly, kicking the door closed. He made his way to the motel room, placing Sam on a bed. “You’re scarin’ me here, kid.” Dean said, giving Sam a poke to the side. That seemed to stir him a little and finally awareness made its way back to his eyes. He sat up, rubbing his eyes a little before moving to sit next to Dean. 

 

Dean could tell a talk was about to happen with the way Sammy took a deep breath before moving next to him, like he was preparing a long speech in his mind. He let his muscles relax for a moment, tensing again as he heard Sammy breathe in, “I wasn’t supposed to like that, was I?” He asked and Dean almost couldn’t believe what he had heard. He sat up a little more, looking over at Sammy. He had to take a deep breathe before speaking, “What do you mean, Sam?” He felt like he probably already knew the answer, that the answer probably wasn't that far off from what he himself would answer. “I wasn't supposed to like killing it, I wasn't supposed to want to keep feeling that.” 

 

Dean was always afraid of Sam having the same issues he did. He was always too eager to get out on a job and do the dirty work, to rid the world of just one more horrible creature. It wasn’t the satisfaction of knowing he had saved lives anymore, it was knowing the thrill he knew he would feel chasing the thing down, the adrenaline rush of hand to hand combat and the overwhelming power of finally, finally, getting the damn thing good.

 

But Dean knew not to get his hopes up that this conversation would turn better. He, in his own personal experience, had never been able to think differently, it was just the way his brain ran. There was no way to change it, maybe through some totally messed up therapy or something but he would never put Sammy through that, or himself. He shifted on the bed so he could see Sam, who looked a little distressed. There’s no easy way to tell someone they’re crazy. So he didn’t. He didn’t tell Sam that he knew that wasn’t how most people thought, not even their dad. Their dad wanted revenge for their mom. Dean killed on hunts for the thrill, for the good feeling it gave him and now Sam was like that. “I getcha Sammy, it’s alright.” 

3.  
Days, weeks, and months passed after that hunt and John, their dad, was stunned at how suddenly Sam wanted to participate in hunts, how eager he was to train with Dean every day he could. Sure, he was still interested in school- he never wouldn’t be, but he’d taken a new, rather odd, liking to the family business. 

 

Dean couldn’t be more proud of Sam, he was getting so smart and so strong. He was getting really good with research, finding information quickly and efficiently. At the very start of hunts, most of the time, when everyone needed to do their fair share of research Sam would wedge himself between Dean and the headboard of the bed and lay flat on his back, holding a book above his head so he could read it. When he finished with that one, he told Dean all he had learned that they’d need and Dean wrote it down. Once Dean wrote all of the stuff down, he’d hand Sam a new book, and the process would start over. 

 

Besides being very good at research, Sam had asked Dean to train him every day in almost anything he could think of, hand to hand combat, knife combat and all sorts of other things. His favourite days happened once he and Dean took to sparring. Since he had most of the techniques down, all he needed to do was master them. Dean was more than willing to help Sam with this; he had looked forward to these days for a long time. 

 

As the weeks passed, the memory of the night of the shifter hunt started to fade. But as this time passed, quite a few things changed in Sam and Dean. The change wasn’t exactly gradual, but it took a while for John to really notice. At first it was just small things, sitting closer in the booths at diners or scooting their chairs closer together. John didn’t notice until the clues got bigger. It was Dean sitting in the back of the impala instead of up front to sit next to Sam and then it was falling asleep next to each other, backs against the wall, Sam’s head on Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s cheek smushed in Sam’s hair. There was no personal space between them, their space was shared. That was the first big clue.

 

The second big clue was that talking almost came to a stop as a whole. They were so close at that point that their conversations were silent looks and the smallest, slightest, gestures. It wasn’t just these things that John noticed either, it was how skilled they were getting, that most of their time-which was now always spent together- was dedicated to training and fighting and learning. They read almost every night, shoulder to shoulder and noses in books, sitting almost perfectly still with the exception of glances cast to the side at the other. Sparring took a turn and it almost had John concerned, he would watch them spar sometimes and it was intense, they went all out, no holding back. They came out with major bruises and cuts but they’d never go so far as to seriously hurt the other.

 

4.  
These changes escalated quickly within the span of under a year. They withdrew from the world, their worlds now each other. Dean was old enough to drive and although John was afraid to let those boys out in the world on their own, he knew they’d be able to fend for themselves. He talked to Dean, warning him of what would happen if anything were to happen to Sam. 

 

To John’s surprise, Sam and Dean left with a hug and a sad smile, as if they knew his reasons for this. “See ya around Dad.” Sam said, waving goodbye. Dean waved his goodbye, lips turning up in a quick, appreciative smile before slipping into the front seat of the impala, running his hands over the steering wheel. Sam got in the passenger seat, scooting close to Dean. A few minutes later and the two were on their own, John standing in the parking lot of a motel in the middle of nowhere wondering what exactly was going to become of those two boys


End file.
